Halló halló!
Before I launch into today’s post about the experience of practically living atop an active volcano, I’d first like to introduce you to our spiffy new sections.
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And now: gearing for another round with our friendly local volcano
… Or not so friendly, that remains to be seen.
If you have kept your eye on Iceland over the last couple of years you will know that we’ve had a few volcanic eruptions in that time—three, to be exact. All of them have been on the Reykjanes peninsula, which is the “arm” that juts out on the bottom left when you look at a map of Iceland. At the western end of that peninsula is the Keflavík International Airport, where some 90% of travellers arrive into the country. At the eastern end—about a 45 minutes’ drive away—sits the capital region, where two-thirds of the population lives. And roughly in the middle is one of Iceland’s most popular tourist sites: the Blue Lagoon.
So yes, a pretty important region.
For most of my life I heard talk of the possibility that an eruption might occur on the Reykjanes peninsula, though it was always discussed as a vague scenario that might one day occur in some hypothetical distant future, say in about 1,000 years. I always envisioned it as a catastrophic event that would rain fire and brimstone upon the heads of those then living and would completely decimate the capital area.
As it turned out, said eruption happened not in 1,000 years, and it was not catastrophic. In fact, it turned out to be a cute little “tourist eruption”—what the Icelanders call eruptions that are fairly harmless provided all precautions are taken, and can be enjoyed at a safe distance. The year was 2021, the era was Covid, and that meant there were virtually no foreign visitors in the country. We Icelanders flocked to the site, packing lunches and dinners, picknicking on a nearby hill while we marvelled at the spectacle before us, like we were sitting around a gigantic bonfire.
Scientists, meanwhile, warned us that this eruption might just be the beginning, since it likely meant that a volcanic system that had lain dormant for 800 years was becoming active again. And being scientists, it turns out they were right! That first eruption petered out in about six months, and since then there have been two, both in similar locations.
And now, we look set to go again
We’re back on the earthquake merry-go-round. The ground is quaking and shaking—a sure sign of an imminent eruption—and the dog is terrified. 😥 The constant seismic activity is awful for the people close to the epicentre, particularly in the town of Grindavík, and it’s not a lot of fun for us in the capital area either. The earthquakes are due to magma pushing its way through subterranean chambers, causing the earth to shift and land to rise. It completely blows my mind to think of the magnitude of that red hot lava below the ground and the strength required to literally make every house in the area shake.
Yet one thing is different this time from the three previous eruptions: the main activity is alarmingly close to man-made structures, specifically the Blue Lagoon and the Svartsengi geothermal power plant, from which the lagoon is created. (In case you don’t know, the water in the Blue Lagoon is run-off water from the power plant, which is literally right next to it.) The other three eruptions were conveniently tucked away in areas where hardly anyone ever went; not so now.
This is alarming for a few reasons, the main one being that, if the ground opens up where the main seismic activity is, the power plant is toast, as is the Blue Lagoon.
Let us examine this
First, if the power plant is destroyed, it will cut off heat and electricity to 21,000 homes, and presumably have a major effect on the workings of KEF International Airport. There are contingency plans being made and authorities have assured folks that heat and power outages will only last 24 hours at the most. How they plan to ensure alternative heating and power I have no clue, but they say they will. Even so, the destruction of a whole power plant is no small event, alternative sources or no.
Second, there is the matter of the Blue Lagoon. Ah, the Blue Lagoon. A place, and business, that many Icelanders have come to associate with wanton greed, and have turned their backs on. Why is a story too long to go into here (I wrote about it in my Little Book of Tourists in Iceland), though I am sure that a quick look at their price list will give you some idea. Also, there was that small incident during Covid when they applied for, and got, support from the government that was designed to help businesses stay afloat during the pandemic. They were granted millions of ISK to pay the salaries of their employees, while at the same time they were paying their shareholders billions in dividends. NOT COOL, and certainly did nothing to endear them to the Icelandic population.
The Blue Lagoon greed connection was once again on everyone’s mind when the earthquakes and land rise started just over a week ago, specifically because the Blue Lagoon (holy shit am writing this and just felt a major earthquake … yes folks this is LIVE) decided to stay open and to keep admitting guests. This despite the fact that the main land rise was only about 1 km away. Their reasoning was that they were “in close contact with Civil Defence” and would close if they were instructed to … but the fact is that no one really knows when the eruption will begin or where the ground will open. As activity continued and the worst-possible scenarios became increasingly grim, criticism of the BL’s actions became louder, particularly since there was nothing on their website to even inform people of the current situation … which would at least have allowed them to make an informed decision about whether or not they wanted to put their lives at risk.
In the end, the company Reykjavík Excursions, which operates the FlyBus and offers frequent transport to the Blue Lagoon, decided to stop ferrying passengers there due to the risk of eruption. Shortly thereafter, in the early hours of Thursday morning, a large number of tourists staying at the Blue Lagoon’s hotel (part of the BL complex), decided to up and leave in the middle of the night as they were terrified by constant earthquakes and falling rocks around the hotel. The Blue Lagoon staff was also reportedly highly anxious and distressed. Only at that point did the Blue Lagoon decide to close—for one week, at which point they will “re-evaluate”.
So that is where things are currently. In true Icelandic fashion we are remaining cool, though the question does occasionally sneak in through the backdoor of my subconscious: What if the eruptions start moving closer to the capital area? 😬 We’ll cross that bridge when it presents itself, I guess, and in the meantime stay flexible and agile, as the Icelanders have learned to do since they settled on this volatile rock.
Þetta reddast.
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